Five Ways Chloe and Davis Meet
by c0ldcomfort
Summary: They were always meant to find each other. Chloe/Davis.


Disclaimer: I own nothing, Smallville belongs to the CW, DC, etc.

Summary: They were always meant to find each other.

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Five Ways Chloe and Davis Meet

**One. Winter in Metropolis.**

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Sister Anna had it in for her, Chloe decided. For the fourth time this month, she had to serve detention for failing to follow in line like her classmates when studying catechism. It wasn't her fault there were so many disconnects in the Bible, in His teachings and how His preaching was interpreted today. She merely critiqued some points (ok, fine, a lot of points) but isn't that what school was for? For students to learn for themselves, to find out what the truth was? The school system could really benefit from changing a few things (ok, again, a lot of things).

Chloe looked at her watch. Luckily, she would be free in a couple of seconds. _5, 4, 3, 2, 1_!

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Ms. Sullivan. It really is not becoming for a lady such as yourself to constantly question authority figures, especially in the manner you chose" said Sister Anna. The manner as to which she was speaking of was Chloe's scathing article in the school paper. The same article which condemned her to two weeks' worth of detention and, not to mention, the unfair probation she was placed under which resulted in her usurpation from _Holy Name of Mary Tribune_ newspaper. As if Sophie Stricke, the vapid cheerleader could do Chloe's paper justice!

Chloe rolled her eyes at Sister Anna's remarks. Oh she's learned something, alright. Free press meant nothing in this dictatorship she's currently enrolled in. Quickly gathering her homework and her backpack, Chloe stood up and walked to the front door. Before leaving, she threw a bright smile at her teacher.

"You're right, Sister Anna. I guess I need to take up online blogging to bring truth to the masses."

* * *

When Chloe was eight years old, her mother left. No explanations, no goodbyes, she was just there one day and gone the next. Chloe woke up to find her father with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking, in the living room. Right then, she knew that her life would never be the same again. When her father finally looked up and saw her, he slowly walked over to her, picked her up and sat her down on the cold kitchen island. Gabe didn't lie to her, he made no excuses for his wife. He didn't say anything, actually. Just sat her down and made waffles for the two of them.

She tried asking him about her mother, but couldn't seem to get the words out. Ironic, considering her dream of being a Pulitzer-winning journalist in the future. She considered writing her thoughts down on paper but since her hands were still raw from scrubbing them last night, she fought against it. She should have known it was coming, anyways. Lately all her parents were doing was fighting. The fight last night was the worst one yet, escalated by Chloe herself. If she hadn't made her parents worry about her hands, then maybe the fight would have never happened. Her mother would have never left, at least, not at the time. Chloe could have had more time with her.

As it was, Moira Sullivan left her family and never once bothered to contact them.

* * *

Growing up, her father was always away on business trips so she pretty much had all the freedom she wanted. She could have thrown parties drenched with alcohol, she could have had boys over, she could have done anything.

She did none of those things.

Instead, she retreated into the literary world and the mighty pen. Making friends was too difficult when it was hard to relate to her classmates. She didn't have money like they did. Gabe had to work relentlessly just to make enough for her tuition. Why, she would never know since it was not her choice to attend the Catholic school. She would have been happy at any regular public school.

Either way, she was fine on her own.

That's not to say she was a social outcast. Chloe could be perfectly friendly to her peers when she wanted to be. But talking to classmates was completely different than having a close friendship with anyone. Sometimes she wished she could meet someone and it would be so easy, so right to be with them. She hasn't met anyone like that yet. She's probably never going to, if the past eighteen years has taught her anything.

Not that she's ungrateful for everything her father did for her. Of course she is. He is the only parent she has left. But even she can tell her father is drifting away.

More and more often, Chloe's noticed her father just looking blankly at his surroundings on the rare times he was actually home with her. Their conversations usually consisted of the requisite _how are you's_ and the subsequent responses. She knows he loves her. After all, he was the one who stayed, who held her in his arms when she finally broke down and cried. But when it came to communication, they have always been almost completely non-verbal. That was just how it was with Chloe and her father.

* * *

Walking home from detention, she stopped at her favourite coffee haunt, _Java Joe's_. Funny thing was that it was actually owned by a man named Joe. It was the perfect place to avoid coming home to an empty house. The bistro was small, quiet and most importantly, void of anyone she knew from school. She couldn't take the humiliation of having to smile and act as if everything was ok, when just two days ago, she had to let go of her paper to someone who probably did not know the difference between _their_ and _there_.

Not that she was bitter about that. She only spent three years working on the paper before finally proving herself to be capable of running it this year. Only to have it snatched by the Nazis disguised as nuns at the sad excuse for a school she goes to.

_Oh no, she's not bitter at all._

Lining up to order her usual almond mocha with extra whip, she noticed a guy slumped over a couple of tables over from the counter. He was draped over the table, dressed in a sweater that looked as if it took a couple beatings from a four-by-four. Taking in his lack of winter apparel and the fact that she knew everyone on the restaurant staff, he was probably a street kid.

Living in Metropolis, it wasn't all that unusual to see the homeless out on the streets. He probably came in to _Joe's_ to avoid the day's extremely cold weather. Metropolis may be home to her precious _Daily Planet_ but its snow storms were also a force to be reckoned with. It was a good thing for him that the manager of the place was a kind, old man that wouldn't mind him taking up a table. It wasn't as if the place was busy at the time. Steve, the cashier, followed her gaze to the stranger and answered her unspoken question.

"He's come in everyday this week, always in the same clothes too. Joe's tried to talk to him but the guy's pretty quiet. Joe, being the big softy he is, told him that he's fine with him coming here, even if he doesn't order anything."

"Where is Joe?" Chloe asked. The various times she's come here, Joe was usually the one to greet her enthusiastically. He was a comforting sight, reminded her of Santa Claus, back when she still believed in those types of things.

"Cheryl, his wife, is in the hospital. Broke her hip. He's there taking care of her."

Chloe nodded in response. Cheryl was a lucky woman. She shared a sympathetic glance with Steve and thanked him for her latte.

As she sat in her table next to the window, she had a clear view of the stranger. His shoes looked extremely worn in, as if he was used to running and running quick. His jeans were ripped and Chloe had a feeling that it wasn't to make a fashion statement either. Overall, he looked the part of a typical runaway. Suddenly, she felt as if her problems dimmed in comparison to his. Sure, she lost her reign on the school paper but at least she had somewhere to go home to. She still had Gabe who tried his best to give her a decent life. She doubted the guy could say the same thing.

Before she realized what she was doing, she was making her way over to the counter again and ordered a large regular coffee, a bottle of water, and two chicken salad sandwiches. She made sure to ask for the water and one sandwich to be wrapped, ready to go at a moment's notice, in case of an emergency. Walking over to the guy, she quietly placed the items on the far corner, just in case when he wakes up, he wouldn't knock the food over.

As she waved goodbye to Steve and walked out the door, she made a mental note to call her father, just to see how he was doing on the trip. He was scheduled to come home in a week; Chloe has already decided to make him his favourite pasta dish for dinner. He's all she has left and she won't take him for granted, not when she could have ended up a lot worse had it not been for him.

So intent in her thoughts, she didn't see the stranger wake up groggily to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee at his table. She didn't see him watch her exit with a slow smile and follow her with his eyes until he could no longer see her.

* * *

The next day, before the morning bell when Chloe saw the new issue of the _Tribune_, she realized there was absolutely no way she would be serving her detention that day. Not when all she wanted to do was find Sophie Stricke and pummel the girl to the ground for actually having the gall (really, the stupidity) to headline the paper with profiles of her cheerleading team. Somehow, in the span of a week, she turned Chloe's paper into a plethora of personal ads for the superficial and shallow. Chloe didn't know whether to scream at the top of her lungs or to curl up in the fetal position. After screaming at Sophie, that is.

As it was, skipping was the best option she had to avoid expulsion for pulling out every bleached bottle-blonde hair Sophie had one fistful at a time. At least Chloe's hair matched her skin tone!

Stomping along the sidewalk, lost in her angry thoughts, she was not paying attention to her surroundings when she slammed into someone else. Before she fell to the ground, a strong, firm hand grabbed her waist and pulled her upright, back into standing position. Impressed by his quick reflexes, she looked at him and felt herself gasp softly. Leave it to her to almost trample over a hot guy, like the one standing before her. Especially since this one was exactly her type. Tall, slim, obviously strong with dark brooding features, he looked like the perpetual bad boy cliché in every good girl's dreams.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. My brain's been MIA today and I wasn't looking where I was going, are you ok?" she apologized to him, kicking herself mentally for most likely coming off as an inconsiderate brat with a lack of coordination and common sense.

He waved her apology off, quirking a smile and tilted his head towards her, in a questioning manner.

"Bad day?" he asked, his voice tying her stomach up in ways she had only read about stories.

"Yeah but that's no excuse for almost trampling over you. I really am sorry."

"It's ok, after what you did for me yesterday, I can give you a break for this," he said. _What was he talking about, yesterday?_

Her confusion must have showed on her face, judging by the low chuckle he gave out. He cocked his head to the left and just looked at her, as if she was the sun he hadn't seen in a very long time. She's never had such attention directed at her; it's almost scary that he's deemed her interesting at first sight.

Shaking her head slightly, she took in his appearance and realized that he was the sleeping guy at Joe's yesterday. He was still in the same clothes as he was when she first saw him.

"How did you –"

"The coffee smell woke me up and I saw you walking out. You seemed like you had something to get to, I didn't wanna keep you from it. Lucky for us to bump into each other like this, literally. Now I can thank you properly for the coffee and sandwich."

"It was nothing really –"

"It was more than you know," he interrupted, still looking at her. She felt her face warm at such intensity.

Extending her hand to him, she introduced herself. As soon as he grasped her hand, she didn't want to let go.

"Davis Bloom. Ignore the girly sounding last name, I had no choice over it" he chuckled to himself. Seeing his face brighten at the self-deprecating joke, she couldn't stop herself from laughing with him either.

He asked her about her bad day. Surprisingly, she told him about it. And he listened. He didn't judge her, didn't berate her, didn't look at her as if she were insane for being so passionate about a newspaper. Most importantly, he didn't look away, wanting to be anywhere but there with her.

Davis was just there for her.

Throughout their conversation (_on the sidewalk, in the middle of day, as countless people walked past them_), Chloe Sullivan and Davis Bloom stood still and marvelled at how easy this instant connection of theirs was.

Eventually, without meaning to, they drifted together to a park nearby. Settling herself down on a swing, she twisted herself to face him on the swing beside her. He gave her a sweet smile as he looked around. Metropolis, stormy conditions and even worst criminal rates aside, was really a beautiful city in the winter.

Still, how did he manage to take care of himself on the streets? There was only so much sheltering Joe could have done for him, she couldn't help but wonder how Davis coped with being a runaway. On the surface, he looks older than her eventful eighteen years. But remembering his look as they arrived at this park, she had a feeling that he was closer to her age than appearances would have her believe. How long had he lived like this?

The reporter in her wanted to take out her compact recorder and interview him, right there on the spot. An article detailing the effects of Metropolis' social welfare system and its consequences on teenage runaways would be a great piece for her lobbying for the summer internship at the Daily Planet, particularly since one of her sources had on good authority that the current editor, Pauline Kahn, had a weak spot for runaways, having been one in her youth before she made a name for herself at the paper.

But the eight-year old girl in her remembered what it was like to drive people away from her. She did it to everyone she met, in fear of them leaving her first, as her mother had. She didn't have close friends or even mentors that she looked up to. After all, Nellie Bly was long gone before her time, and it wasn't as if she had a chance of ever meeting her idol, even if Bly was still alive. Until recently, she did not make much of an effort to connect to her own father. An effort that was, in part, thanks to Davis, for making her realize how selfish she had been in her own quiet pain.

Reflecting on his worn, ragged clothing, she tentatively asked if there was anything she could do to help him.

"You don't have to tell me your life story. I just want to help you Davis."

Davis looked away, focused on something far off in the distance before returning his gaze to her. The broken look in his eyes made her heart clench and it was so hard to hold herself in place, to stop from reaching out to him and gathering him in her arms, just so that he knew that there was someone that wanted to help. That she could be that someone for him, if he wanted her.

She didn't have to wait very long for him to choose her.

* * *

Chloe Sullivan, city-bred and a cynic at heart and Davis Bloom, a foster kid running away from another bad situation.

Both were usually solitary people yet here they were, together.

If she were to pinpoint the exact minute her walls came down, this would be it. This was the moment she learned to let someone else in.


End file.
